


the moon's grip on the sea

by moonisland



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, Canon Universe, Falling In Love, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonisland/pseuds/moonisland
Summary: Bokuto graduates. Keiji learns to speak.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by _that_ chapter of haikyuu and all the bokuaka feels it gives me (you know which). also, an opm dj. welp. this takes a ridiculously long time to write??? and despite the title, literally the majority of the fic is written to future (ft. rihanna) - selfish so that's the theme song of this fic. anyway i didn’t mean it to but it just so happened that this fic matches one of the day 7 prompts of bokuaka week, so! day 7 – graduation~ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

“Bokuto-san.”

In front of him, the overgrown ten year old child Keiji calls ‘Captain’ makes a face as he stops fumbling with his collar. “Akaashi,” he replies, tone close to a whine. “My mom’s already done this at home, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies, smacking the hand away as he fixes the collar for the third time, ignoring the loud squeak. He immediately goes back to the tie he’s been trying to adjust, which could be done in seconds if not for the squirming _child_. “She called me about tips on how we wear our uniform properly because she never sees you did so in the past three years.”

Bokuto narrows his eyes. “I knew there’s a reason she keeps looking at her phone when she did my tie.”

“It’s a feat that you managed to somehow botch her work on the half an hour from your home to school, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, slightly pulling at the fabric to limit the other’s move. Bokuto chokes a little, but he lets himself be pulled.

“Well.” He reflexively raises a hand to pull his tie back so he can breathe properly. His fingertips touch Keiji’s, for a millisecond. Keiji looks up, and the other boy is already looking at him with a wide smile. “I have you to do this now, right?”

Keiji blinks at him. He touches the tip of Bokuto’s tie. “Right,” he says, “so stay still.”

Bokuto’s sigh makes it seem like Keiji is asking him to do chores for the rest of his life, but at least he stops moving. “Fiiine.”

It takes Keiji ten seconds to fix the tie, properly re-tying and smoothing it down inside Bokuto’s blazer. “There.”

Bokuto leans forward, and Keiji doesn’t manage to react before a hand reaches out to fix his own collar. “And there,” he says, grinning proudly. Keiji wills his cheeks to not heat up. Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice his struggle either way, brushing his fingers against his neck. His fingers are rough, Keiji notices. He can feel his own expression freezes. For some reason, neither of them breaks eye-contact.

The door to their gym locker room where they are right now opens. “Guys,” Washio calls out from the door. “Let’s go, they’re lining up already.”

“We’re coming,” Keiji says, finally looking away and stepping back.

Bokuto, however, throws an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He feels solid against Keiji, warmth radiating like the personification of the sun he is. “Hey, hey hey,” he grins, voice surprisingly soft. Keiji looks up at him, and everything tilts and goes into place right at the same time. “Wish me luck.”

“To walk across the stage?”

He pouts. “Akaashi,” Bokuto whines.

Keiji smiles. “Good luck, Bokuto-san.”

 

 

Bokuto is the representative from his class to be called on stage. Keiji knows this because Bokuto, for some reason, is very proud of this particular fact. He tells the whole volleyball team, and Kuroo (so therefore everyone in the Nekoma volleyball club and probably Tsukishima as well), and the group chat he has with other captains he’s friends with. To Keiji’s no surprise whatsoever, he also announces it noisily to Keiji’s unsuspecting classmates when he goes to Keiji during lunch. His classmates are always appropriately horrified at the loud and overtly friendly volleyball team captain, despite the fact that Bokuto has been coming to their class to loudly demand Keiji’s presence for the past year.

( _Ex captain,_ Bokuto cheerfully reminds them once when he overhears their conversation. Keiji ignores their mortified pleading look and simply snorts at the older’s proud, _Akaashi is the captain now!)_

So Keiji knows this, if not for Bokuto’s proud announcement back then, then for the fact that most of his classmates immediately turn to look at him even before the name ‘Bokuto Koutarou’ is called on the speakers. For some reason, hearing it still makes his chest lurch. He straightens up on his seat and ignores everyone’s stare.

His hair is gelled up, despite his mother’s protests and Keiji’s blank stare while they get ready. The contrasting grey-white and black make him stand out, as usual. At least his uniform is properly buttoned up, sleeves pressed sharp along his arms the way they’re supposed to be. Bokuto walks on the stage with wide grin, face glowing with pride and confidence. He doesn’t shake, doesn’t even look a little bit nervous, a contrast to the awkward students before him. He laughs as he bows, comfortable in his own skin even when the teachers warily glare at him. Bokuto shines as he makes a peace sign and hoots his signature “Hey, hey, hey!” to the laughter of everyone in the auditorium, always looking like he belongs in the center of everyone’s gaze.

Keiji’s eyes follow him easily, a habit easier than breathing.

 

 

It's in the middle of the first years' embarrassingly sappy congratulatory words that Bokuto appears, throwing himself on his juniors with his arms around them and pulling them into something akin to a group hug with a loud laugh. Even the least shy of the bunch turns slightly red at their captain's ( _ex captain_ , Bokuto's voice corrects him elatedly in Keiji's head) lack of personal space. “Finally!”

“About time, Ace,” their first year manager says, not even looking up from the camera in her hands. “We’ve taken like 80 pictures without you.”

Bokuto, of course, complains. Loudly. “Hey, that’s unfair! It’s not my fault everyone wants to take a picture with the one who takes the team to Nationals!” He straightens himself and folds his arms in front of his chest, huffing proudly.

“Yes, Captain. Now get your ass over here.”

Bokuto pouts for a second before he laughs loudly and throws himself at Konoha, who squawks at him. The first years take the pictures for them, all third years and all seniors and then all the starting players. Keiji doesn’t move from his place under Bokuto’s arm in all the pictures. None of the volley club members even bat an eyelash when Bokuto pulls him into the picture they’re taking of him every time.

It’s when Bokuto is leaning over him to look at pictures taken in his phone that someone stops near them. Keiji looks up, which makes Bokuto does, too. It’s a petite girl, and looking at the pinned ribbon on her blazer, it’s a third year.

“Um,” she mumbles, looking more at her shoes than any of them. Not far from them, her friends linger. “Excuse me, Bokuto-san.”

“That’s me!” Bokuto points at himself. He grins, leaning over the girl with a bright expression. The ruckus around them calms slightly. The noises seem far away, all of a sudden. “What’s up? Oh, congratulations on your graduation as well!”

“Y-you, too. Um, I. I have something to ask.” She reddens, but she seems to steel herself at her friends’ silent encouragement behind her. “May I have your second button?”

Bokuto blinks. Keiji’s left eye twitches. The rest doesn’t even try to hide their staring, blatantly looking at them with interest. “Button? My uniform button?”

“Ye-yeah. If it’s not too much trouble!”

Bokuto looks confused, but he’s not a complicated person. He simply looks down at his uniform with a curious expression and asks, “Blazer or shirt?”

“Either one is fine!” The girl looks close to tears, but she seems happy. “Thank you so much!”

The staring is starting to get on his nerves, but Keiji knows it doesn’t show on his expression. It’s probably hypocritical of him to be annoyed anyway, since he doesn’t move from his unnecessarily close place right beside Bokuto either, even as the girl’s friends give him a strange look. Keiji thinks it’s not anybody’s fault that the older boy seems to forget the concept of personal space around him, and that he lets him be. Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice anything, always the simple-minded one, and he simply sends the girl another beaming smile. “I’m not sure why you need it, but it’s no problem!” Bokuto pauses, and then takes off his blazer. “I’ll give you my shirt’s second button. If my mom saw my blazer being ruined she’d probably tell me to never come home or something.”

He seems to struggle pulling at the button, so Keiji steps forward. “Here,” he takes Bokuto’s blazer off and drapes it across his own arm. He pulls at the shirt, picking at the thread behind the button to loosen it. Bokuto doesn’t move, standing in front of him without a word as he lets Keiji work on it. When the button comes off, he takes Bokuto’s palm and puts it there. “There you go,” he says, tone neutral.

“Thanks,” Bokuto says, smiling at him and turning towards the girl.

Komi, who has been talking with some second years, suddenly appears behind Bokuto, pressing his chin on Bokuto’s upper arm as he leans to look at the girl in front of him. “Oh, what’s this?” The girl squirms slightly, but Bokuto simply raises his eyebrows at him. Komi looks at Bokuto’s shirt and the missing button, lips slowly stretching into a teasing smirk. “Not gonna save it for Akaashi, Captain?”

Surprisingly, it’s the girl who turns red. Keiji holds in his sigh, opting to give his senior the blankest expression possible instead. Bokuto frowns. “Why would he need my button?” All the third years’ eyes are definitely at them now. Keiji has spent enough time with them to realize that they’re probably going to launch into some kind of romanticized explanation about the lore of the second button or something. Keiji opens his mouth to stop them, if not for the poor girl, but then Bokuto continues, “What’s a button gonna do when he already has me?”

If possible, everyone’s eyes when they all turn towards him instead of the spectacle of their ex-captain feel more piercing on his back. Komi glances at Keiji before he steps back and raises his palms, a gesture of surrender. “Alright, man.”

Bokuto frowns more but his expression clears easily as he shrugs. He turns towards the girl, who now looks closer to tears. She gives him a shaky smile when he beams at her, though, carefully composing herself. “Here you go!”

“Thank you,” she says softly. She holds the button in her fist carefully, movement gentle. She closes her eyes for a short moment, and her smile looks genuine, then. Keiji looks away. He knows her friends are still looking at him, but he doesn’t react. “Congratulations again on your graduation, Bokuto-san.”

“To the both of us!” Bokuto raises his hand for a high five, which she gives with a small chuckle. She bows at him, and then, after a brief hesitation, turns towards Keiji and bows at him. Keiji bows back. Bokuto turns towards him and rests his chin on Keiji’s shoulder. “You know her, Akaashi?”

“No,” he says, shrugging Bokuto off of him. He ignores Bokuto’s pout and moves to drape his blazer around his shoulders, buttoning the first button to keep it in place. He looks silly with his arms trapped under the clothes and not inside the sleeves, so Keiji goes to ties them around his body and pushes him towards some nervous looking first year members, and he can’t help but to chuckle at the older’s loud protest.

Konoha suddenly appears beside him. He raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk on his face. “Well,” he says, and nothing else.

Keiji agrees, but he’s not going to say it. Instead he raises his eyebrow back at him and looks at Konoha’s still orderly uniform. “I see you still have all your buttons intact, Konoha-san.”

The senior looks appropriately miffed. “How dare you step on my already fragile ego, Akaashi.”

“Nah,” Shirofuku sings, appearing on his other side, “he’s going to squash it later, during our last practice.” She winks at him. “Right, Keiji?”

Keiji chuckles, appreciating the manager’s intervention, which prompts Konoha to start bickering with her instead of making another comment towards him. He’s watching them with amusement when there’s a press of someone right beside him. He looks up slightly to see Bokuto, his blazer held behind his back with one hand, leaning his elbow on Keiji’s shoulder.

“Last practice,” he says, tone uncharacteristically somber. His eyes are still bright, though, and he looks at Keiji with the same enthusiasm and passion he has, the ones that keep pulling Keiji forward no matter what. “Set for me, will you, Akaashi?”

Bokuto moves his arm towards the lower his back then, a minuscule touch, and Keiji doesn’t lean into it. The smile on his lips, though, he doesn’t think he can help. “Don’t I always?”

 

 

Since it’s their last day, most of the members don’t even bother to change as they play, with the exception of Bokuto who is the only third year standing on the court in proper sport gear, knee pads and all, because he’s the only one who is too lazy to clean up his locker in their club room despite Keiji’s constant reminder. He’s just as loud and energetic as he is in every practice, and while everyone takes this in stride and tries to match up with his energy, he ends up as the last senior in the gymnasium, while the others are getting ready to leave with their sweaty shirts and loosened up ties. Even Shirofuku has her blazer off.

“This is supposed to be relaxing!” Konoha grumbles. “Why is it just as rough as every other practice!”

“No one told you to get carried away, Konoha-san,” Keiji informs him plainly.

Konoha glares at him, but his expression clears as he sighs loudly. “Man, I’ll miss your ice cold face, Akaashi.”

From across the court, Bokuto makes a disapproving face. “Akaashi is not ice cold!”

Sarukui, who is reaching for his bad beside Keiji, snickers loudly. “Of course he’s not,” he says, ignoring the leveled stare Keiji gives him. He gives him a peace sign with a grin, winking happily as he walks backwards towards the exit. The rest of the third years are already standing there. They’ve gone through the emotional ‘this will be our last time here’ moment during their last practice a few weeks ago, so there’s no more sobriety surrounding them. Seeing them laughing and talking loudly pulls at his chest. Keiji really will miss them.

“Oi, Bokuto,” Saru calls, “you’re really not coming?”

Bokuto spikes a ball coming his way before he replies. “Nah, Akaashi still hasn’t set for me,” he says, expression bright. “Eat a bowl for me!”

Saru gives him a thumb up, before he turns towards Keiji and gives him two. Keiji can’t help but snort when Washio pulls at the back of his collar, his face stern as always. “Don’t overdo it guys,” he tells them, throwing the key to Keiji. “And don’t forget to lock up, Captain.”

Keiji nods, and feeling a surge of gratitude, he bows deeply towards the third years. He can see the other second and first years around following his move, saying loudly, “Thank you for your hard work!” The words echo at the gymnasium as they wave and leave, finally stepping away as students in their school for the last time. Right as he tries to straighten up, he feels Bokuto leaning right on top of his back. “Bokuto-san,” he complains.

“Hey, your first official task as Captain!” He points at the key in Keiji’s hand, ignoring his words completely.

“I’ve been the one locking up for more than a year,” Keiji reminds him. It really has, probably since the moment Bokuto was appointed as Captain by their seniors back then. Bokuto practices overtime a lot so he borrows the key all the time anyway, so when the seniors picked him it’s simpler to just give the gymnasium key even before they all graduated. Keiji, even as a first year back then, was also unsurprisingly stuck with it, thanks to Bokuto’s insistence every time. He wonders why he never says no.

“Well, that’s right. At least I’m always there when you do, right?” He does, because they always go home together. Bokuto finally lets him stand up properly, even as he still has an arm across Keiji’s shoulders though. His body is hot against Keiji’s side, probably from how much he jumps around even if it’s not a formal practice. Bokuto’s arm is damp with sweat across the back of his neck. Keiji is slightly grateful that he lets Bokuto force him into changing to his usual practice clothes, a simple tee and exercise shorts. “So, Akaashi. Last late practice?”

“Don’t you have to celebrate your graduation with your family?” Keiji is pretty sure he hears Bokuto’s mother telling him that when he goes to greet his parents.

“I want to spend more time practicing with you though,” he sulks.

A thump. Keiji doesn’t know who he’s trying to fool, because he knows exactly why he never says no, really. “Fine,” he sighs, but then puts his hands on his hips with a frown. “But when I say it’s over you better listen.”

“Okay, Captain,” Bokuto grins, unfazed.

“And you’re not allowed to complain to me when your mother tells you off,” he continues.

Bokuto’s expression changes rapidly, lips turning into a pout. “Okay,” he replies moodily. Keiji turns around and hides his own smile.

It’s a simple practice, being that there’s only the two of them. At first some first and second years linger around and help with throwing the balls for him to set, but as the sun sets they slowly go home with polite farewells and ‘see you tomorrow’s. As one of them enthusiastically bows down before he leaves (to the equally enthusiastic pat on the back from Bokuto), he turns towards Keiji and says chirpily, “Remember when you used to do that?”

Keiji looks at the direction the first year goes to before he gives Bokuto a blank stare. “I never do that.”

Bokuto makes a thoughtful noise. “Hmm, maybe not as loudly, but you’re definitely more cute and eager. I liked first year Akaashi a lot. Remember when you used to be the one who asked me if I’d practice overtime and if you could join me? You used to follow me all the time with such bright eyes, Akaashi!” He picks up a ball and starts bouncing it with the inside of his wrists, eyes following the movement up and down. “You’re probably one of the reasons I do late practice so much.”

He’s not wrong. As a first year Keiji has a deep respect towards his seniors who has kept their school club a power house, but especially towards Bokuto, who he’s seen performed spectacularly at the Inter High Tournament that he watched when he was in his third year of junior high. Keiji never really talks about it, but part of why he chose Fukuroudani Academy in the first place may or may not be that match.

Keiji is pretty sure he was never cute or eager, though. Interested, maybe. More diligent. During the first few weeks in the club, he caught Bokuto staying behind a lot, and some of the third years told him and other first years that they’re not obligated to go to such measures, and that Bokuto is one of their most talented players. Keiji can see it clearly in his eyes, always focused and excited when he’s in court. His movements are always sharp and efficient, despite them being obviously instinctive. It’s not like Keiji could help it when he walked towards the older boy and offered him help. He wanted to be a good player, as well. That’s all it was, in the beginning.

And then Bokuto had looked so genuinely happy at the offer, expression open and bright as he accepted it. Then he asked Keiji to be his setter on the next practice, and the next, and Keiji said yes every time, and then suddenly Bokuto has become a permanent fixture in his life.

Bokuto cries out when the ball he’s using suddenly bounces off as it hits the wrong angle of his wrists. Keiji blinks.

“No,” he says, “the reason you do late practice so much is because you have too much energy and you need an outlet that is not robbing a convenience store or something equally outrageous.” Keiji ignores his cry of protest to get the ball that’s rolling towards the other side of the net, bending down to walk under it. He stares at the ball and takes a deep breathe, slowing his heartbeat. “Also, you are always driven to be better and have a high ambition. You persevere and work hard to be the best player you can be, and if that means spending hours doing inefficient practices, then you’re going to do it.”

He turns, and Bokuto is smiling broadly at him. “And you make it so much more efficient, Akaashi!”

Coming from other people, it may sound like a backhanded comment, but Bokuto’s words are as sincere as ever. “I do what I can for the team,” he shrugs.

“And for me,” Bokuto declares proudly.

Keiji raises an eyebrow. He’s used to Bokuto’s confidence, but for some reason it always catches him off guard. “Seeing that you’re the captain of the team, I suppose, yeah.”

“I suppose,” Bokuto says, his smile turning uncharacteristically gentle. Keiji’s chest thuds. “You say that I’m hard-working, but your setting isn’t all the work of your talent either. Even as a first year you’re always making sure you get how to be the best pillar for our spikers to rely on. I would know, considering I’m the one who gets to spike for you the most. Every practice I get to see the work you put into making sure I can do my best.” He bends under the net and walks towards him, slowly taking the ball in his hands. He looks straight at Keiji. “You’re probably the best thing that has ever happened to me, Akaashi,” he tells him, voice softer but expression just as vibrant.

This sincerity too, somehow, always catches him off guard. Keiji has been around him enough to know that Bokuto always means what he says. That’s probably the reason his throat is dry. His face feels hotter, and his fists clench on his side. He turns slightly to hide the slight tremble he knows is there. “You’re being really heartfelt, aren’t you, Bokuto-san? I haven’t heard you sound so profound since you lectured Tsukishima.”

Instead of being insulted, Bokuto grins. He never really takes Keiji’s biting words to heart, despite his many whining and complaints. That’s why Keiji can stay so comfortably beside him for so long. He might be dense, but Bokuto is a good captain for many reasons. He’s a good friend and senior and _person_ , for many reasons. “It’s my last day in high school,” he says cheerfully. He passes Keiji the ball and squeezes his shoulder. “Now set me some more balls!”

Keiji looks at him saunter away and wave his arms excitedly at him, loudly telling him to move. It still lights something inside him up to see Bokuto feels so energized and good, to be beside him when Bokuto gets to do his best. He’s been looking at the same person for a while, now, and he doesn’t see it changing anytime soon. Keiji closes his eyes for an infinitesimal pause, and throws the ball.

 

 

It’s an hour later that Keiji puts an end on their practice. The sun has set and their teacher has peeked into the gymnasium to give them a stern look twice, clearly telling them to go home already. “Come on,” he says, catching the ball Bokuto throws at him instead of setting it like he probably wants Keiji to do. “I don’t want to get nagged by your mother for letting you do too much on your graduation day.”

“You know my mom loves you! If anything she’d nag me to death for keeping you from going home early even though school is only half day today,” Bokuto protests.

“Well, even if she does you will still whine to me, and I’d rather pass on that. Let’s go, start cleaning up.”

“Booo,” Bokuto jeers. It’s a familiar tone to Keiji. He still goes to pick up the balls on the other side of the court, though, and follows Keiji’s instruction. Also something familiar to him. As he does, he starts to speak again, fully expecting Keiji to pay attention. Not that he never does, really. “Ah, I’m going to really miss being captain,” he starts, trying to juggle all the balls in his arms and failing miserably. Keiji gives his back a stern look, one that Bokuto of course ignores as he keeps talking while he runs to catch the fallen balls. “It’s really hard to be one, you know! You have to monitor everyone’s progress and make sure they all line up with the goal of the team, get along with the coach and advisors, keep a good relationship with other teams.” He finally puts them into the proper place and puffs up his chest in pride, turning a little to grin at Keiji. “Isn’t it amazing that I can do all that and get to university?”

“It’s a sport scholarship,” he replies plainly, but smiles back anyway. “Good job, Bokuto-san.”

“Thank you!” Bokuto folds his arms across his chest, still looking immensely pleased with himself. His expression changes as he continues though, pointing a finger at him. “You need to get along well with the others, Akaashi. You’re such a good player that I don’t think you need to work much for respect, but you have to start hanging out with the rest of the team. Also always talk to Coach to spot all potentials you can get, like I did with you.”

Keiji raises an eyebrow. “You mean like when you burdened me with Vice-Captain’s works even though I was only a second year and there were a lot more capable seniors in the team?”

“Hey, everyone agreed with me! There was no complaint!”

“I did complain. I complained a lot.”

“Yeah, it was one of the few times you were really mean to me,” he laughs. Keiji makes a face before he can stop himself. He wasn’t mean to Bokuto—he just tried to make a point on how wrong Bokuto’s decision was by not talking to him for two weeks, even though he still stayed for late practice. He didn’t even cave when Bokuto started to kneel down and beg for his forgiveness in the middle of practice. Honestly, it was a feat that he managed to keep his stance for all of two weeks. “You come around, though.”

“That’s because you keep messing things up on purpose right in front of me, making it impossible for me to ignore. Also, you and the other third years ganged up on me.”

Bokuto grins. “I’m good, aren’t I?” He takes out one ball and starts playing with it again, to Keiji’s dismay, passing it from hand to hand. His expression is a little more somber though, and Keiji pays attention to that, too. “You’re going to be a great captain, Akaashi. You’ve been one for at least a year.”

Keiji stares at Bokuto with a slight frown as he can’t help but feel a slight disapproval at the statement. While Keiji does a lot of work for the team, sometimes even taking the role of a captain, it feels wrong to hear it. No matter what anyone says or sees, Bokuto is a great captain. Keiji, who is always right beside him, would know. While people see someone who always jumps around excitedly as he dodged responsibilities, Keiji sees someone who unknowingly lifts up the team’s spirit, sometimes even their opponent’s. While people witness a captain who gets dejected and mess up the team’s dynamic depending on his mood, Keiji witnesses a captain who bounces back for his teammates, a captain who at the end of every match will give them encouraging words no matter what happens.

While people see an Akaashi Keiji who trails along Bokuto Koutarou to fix his mistakes, he sees himself following his captain because he sees a strong presence that makes them want to work and fight harder. There’s no other way but to follow when such a bright light steadily leads you forward with open arms, promising support after both victories and losses.

The words are swallowed whole, and the lump in his chest beats painfully. “I will still miss our ace,” Keiji says.

Bokuto lifts his face towards the ceiling with closed eyes, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’ll miss this too.”

The melancholy is a steady beat beneath the thrumming of his heartbeat. Keiji shakes himself out of it. “Alright, that’s enough distraction. Come help me roll up the net.”

That snaps Bokuto out of his seriousness as he immediately turns to Keiji and cries out loudly. “Nooo,” he moans. “One more spike! Set me one more and I’ll clean everything up after this one, I promise.”

He wonders if learning to say no to Bokuto right when he’s graduating would be a good idea, and decides that there’s not much benefit in doing so. Keiji sighs. “One more.”

Bokuto hoots loudly, already running towards the further side of the court, ready to do what his muscles have probably remembered to do in his sleep. Keiji walks slowly towards his position, and he can feel the blood rushes in his ears. “My last spike in high school! Make it count, Akaashi!”

Bokuto throws the ball towards him.

Volleyball is something that Keiji loves. This is something both himself and Bokuto know. He doesn’t only stay behind just for the sake of humoring a senior that keeps pestering him—Bokuto is right when he said that Keiji works hard. While it’s not his entire life the way it is for some other players, it’s something that he enjoys. When he walks into the court for a match, whether a practice or a formal tournament, there’s always a rush of excitement running through his body. He likes playing, likes feeling the sting of ball on his reddening palms, likes getting callouses on the tip of his fingers as a proof of his fight. Standing beside someone he respects and works well with is a perk he’s lucky to have, but Keiji figures he would like volleyball either way. Maybe not as intensely, but it’s something that Keiji is glad he gets to experience.

The ball flows towards him in a slow motion. He slows his breathing, matches his tempo to the timing of Bokuto’s run, locks the position he finds would be the best ammunition for his wing spiker. He feels his fingers move fluidly, an instinct he’s polished for years, and Keiji sets the ball.

When Bokuto jumps, his form is perfect. The ball shoots towards the edge of the court, sharp and powerful. Keiji lets the pride inside him grow for watching and staying beside the same person he’s always wanted. There’s a reason he always tries to keep Bokuto’s mood up, even with his casual jabs. There’s something about seeing Bokuto Koutarou shine as bright as he could, and even more so when he’s part of the reasons the light turns as dazzling as it is now. Keiji is not a selfless person. Warmth spreads between his ribs, blooming slowly as Bokuto lands and punches the air with a yell, elation and satisfaction evident in his huge smile. He has always been someone Keiji loves to watch, loves to be around with, loves to take care of, and—

The thing is, Keiji is still the same person as he was a year or so ago. He still admires Bokuto a lot, eyes always following both his progression and his set-backs. When he approached him during that late night in his first year, he wasn’t just driven to better himself—there’s a pull inside him to make Bokuto be better, to help him reach his best. He’s already tampered with how he shows it, his bubbling pleasure hidden between small smiles and neutral expression, but it has always been there, as it always will be.

Keiji doesn’t stay for the sake of other people, not even Bokuto, because he never comes around for them in the first place. It has always been for himself. Between what he feels and what he shows, being beside Bokuto has taught him to be selfish.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Bokuto’s voice is loud, echoing in the empty space. Outside, the sky turns dark orange. The gymnasium is silent, sans their breathing. It feels too huge and too small all at the same time. The older boy looks up and beams at him, expression blindingly bright. There’s no word Keiji can even attempt to form as he senses the feeling envelopes him.

He tries, anyway. “I hope it counts, Bokuto-san,” he says.

“Of course it does,” Bokuto replies, tone almost baffled. Like it’s stupid that Keiji is even saying that. Knowing him, that’s probably exactly what he thinks. “You’re the best, Akaashi.”

It’s a feeling he’s no stranger to, the breathlessness, but this time it feels like a prickling pain on his skin. When Bokuto’s smile doesn’t dim, Keiji closes his eyes for a single moment and locks the memories away. His lips turn as he opens his eyes, but the pain doesn’t diminish.

 

 

Bokuto finishes changing first, and he sits quietly while Keiji pulls out his blazer. It’s when Keiji is buttoning it up that he speaks, “You know, I’ve been wondering.” At Keiji’s silence, he clears his throat. “Akaashi, listen.”

Keiji smiles to himself. “Yes, Bokuto-san.”

“Can’t live without Akaashi Keiji,” he says, and that makes him pause. He turns slowly towards Bokuto, and the older boy is looking at him with a curious expression. There’s no hint of teasing or ridicule in his words, which Keiji shouldn’t be surprised at, really. “Which number of my weakness do you put it on?”

“I—,” he tries, and swallows, and tries again, but nothing comes up. It’s not a surprise that Bokuto knows. Everyone in the team knows about his list. Sometimes, when Bokuto is in one of his moods and he’s not bouncing back as quickly as usual and it results in a not so good practice, Keiji will pull it out as a threat to make sure he’s motivated enough to feel better, saying that he’d move a certain thing up the list. Bokuto never really comments on it, even then, simply whining at how cold Keiji is and that everyone should just leave him alone, but in the end gets encouraged enough to stop being moody anyway. It has never been a secret, nor is it something that Keiji is ashamed of to make and memorize.

Looking at Bokuto’s expression still makes him nervous, though. It’s probably because while it’s not something he hides, it’s not really something people talk about either, least of all Bokuto. And this certainly comes out of nowhere. He knows it doesn’t show on his face, because his feelings rarely do, but Keiji wonders what’s going on. He swallows again. “Why?”

Bokuto doesn’t waver. He doesn’t even seem to notice the strange mood suddenly falling over them. He shrugs, and says, “Just.”

Most of the time, people around them can’t tell that Bokuto is the older one. For Keiji, who sees this side of Bokuto at times and can’t ever forget them, it’s never the case. Bokuto can cry out and get into a mood and be as childish as he wants and Keiji will still reminded of the Bokuto in front of him, the one with relaxed posture and soft expression and unexpected patience. He doesn’t know if this is a privilege or a curse, to know and understand the enigma that is Bokuto Koutarou as well as he does.

As he feels his heart beats fast enough to make him breathless, Keiji picks both. “Eighth,” he answers, voice clear even as soft as it is.

Bokuto raises an eyebrow at him and chuckles. He stands up and jumps at Keiji, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer as his elbow pushes Keiji’s locker door shut. “You should fix it. Put it on number one.”

Keiji wants to put his arms around Bokuto and buries himself closer, but there’s nothing new there. The words in his mouth sink down into his throat like they always do. He moves his arm to curl around Bokuto’s waist, carefully loosens his fist to hold onto his side, and tugs. The older boy easily moves closer at his pull. “Noted,” he says. Bokuto laughs brightly and doesn’t let go.

 

 

Keiji scrolls down his texts. Bokuto’s mother sends him a few, asking him about her son’s whereabouts, and he replies to it with an apology. There’s another one from his own mother telling him to tell Bokuto to come to their house so she can congratulate him properly, and for them to not overdo their practice. He can feel her scold through the text so Keiji nudges at Bokuto’s side, moving the head on his shoulder slightly. “My mom wants to congratulate you properly,” he says. Bokuto hums. “Want to come over?”

He yawns. “I can’t. My mom sent me a billion texts telling me to come home. I think there’s some family dinner to celebrate or something.” He nudges the side of Keiji’s neck with his sweaty hair. Keiji should be disgusted. He doesn’t move. “You want to come?”

“No, thanks. I should probably go home as well.”

“Tomorrow,” Bokuto promises, before he lets out another big yawn.

Keiji nods and replies to his mother’s text, promising to get home soon. The whole train is silent. It usually is at this hour, as Keiji is used to after every practice. The moon is high on the sky. Beside him, Bokuto breathes evenly, another thing Keiji is used to on his commute home in the night. It has to be uncomfortable for him to rest his head against his shoulder, seeing as he’s a bit taller than Keiji. He doesn’t say anything, though, so neither does Keiji. He goes back to opening some random Wikipedia page he’s been reading before the texts come, reading them silently, and Bokuto slumps further down his seat. He fits, unsurprisingly. They’ve fitted each other despite a lot of things, for the time they’ve known each other.

Tomorrow, Keiji is the senior in the school. Tomorrow, Bokuto is going to finalize his lease at some apartment nearer to the center of Tokyo, an hour train ride and half an hour of bus ride away from Keiji’s house, twenty three stops away from their school by bus. Tomorrow, Bokuto makes some plan to check out his new university with Kuroo, excited to do so despite the disappointment he shows when Keiji points out that he can’t go with him because he has school and practice. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, Bokuto won’t really be around anymore.

Keiji breathes out tomorrow. Beside him, Bokuto is a solid presence, and tomorrow, he probably won’t be, not anymore.

Then, suddenly, “It’s beautiful.”

Keiji’s finger pauses from scrolling. He turns slightly. “Sorry?”

Bokuto straightens up. The length of his arm is warm against Keiji’s own. He raises his chin slightly towards the view from the wide glass window across them, the panoramic picture of the moving city. Above them, the moon shines brightly, unmoving.

“The moon is beautiful,” Bokuto says, “isn’t it?”

Keiji has tried to learn how to speak to Bokuto since his first year. The moment the second year wing spiker approaches him and asks Keiji to be his setter, Keiji has learnt how to shape words and sentences and sounds, learnt how to make himself and the other understand. It’s been two years since Bokuto first spiked the ball he shakily sent to the air. It’s been even longer since Keiji, in his last year of junior high, looks at the court of the Inter High Tournament with wide eyes, palm white from exertion, watching the way a simple first year substitute from Fukuroudani makes the decisive score and bags their first win in the competition. It’s been longer since that first year subbed in player makes the decisive choice that’s going to shape Keiji’s next three years.

Keiji looks at the moon, bright and unmoving. He thinks of the sun, radiating heat and life and everything he’s ever wanted, but maybe the moon, in its’ subtle shine and whisper, is more fitting to the syllables they both struggle to let out.

Bokuto holds his hand, grip light, and it’s been a long time since Keiji falls in love.

Tomorrow this solid presence might not be there, but the subtle shadow will stay, and Bokuto is everything that he’s ever wanted, that has always been there. The words take shape and leave his lips in a whisper, and they both understand what they’ve been learning to get across. In retrospect, Bokuto probably has always listened; between the unsaid words, between the said silence. He has always been one step ahead, it seems.

With his widespread arms, he has always been waiting for Keiji to catch up.

“Yeah,” Keiji says, squeezing back. Bokuto’s palm is warm, and it holds the soft promise of a small forever. Right then, it’s enough. “The moon is beautiful tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it? = 月がきれいですね? (Tsuki ga kireidesu ne?) is used to express the Japanese equivalent of “I love you.” (Source.)
> 
> tumblr/[fic post](https://moonislander.tumblr.com/post/159073933673/the-moons-grip-on-the-sea).


End file.
